A Tale of Two Schools
by BooksAreLikeChocolateButBetter
Summary: When four student from two rivaled schools meet, it's only natural that there would be trouble. For Alfred F. Jones and Ludwig Beilschmidt,students of Storm Coast, school life becomes a whole lot more complicated when they encounter Arthur Kirkland and Feliciano Vargas, students of Providence. Can they put aside tradition for love or are they destined to be enemies?USUK GerIta
1. The First Meeting

Chapter One

The clock ticked. Its hollow sound resonated off the classroom walls and filled the strained ears of every tired student. Every second that went past was another second closer to the freedom of outdoors and the escape of endless tortuous lessons with the same endearingly monotonous teachers. Alfred tapped his pen on the edge of his desk, his pages of triangles and algebraic formulae had long been abandoned as he stared out of the window watching the cars go by. His eyes flitted to the clock once more as he saw, to his dismay, that he still had five minutes left to endure before he was free to go.

Alfred wondered how, Ludwig (his stern classmate and best friend) was coping in his physics lesson. The two had a strong friendship which many of their peers questioned as they hugely contrasting personalities. Alfred F. Jones was a loud-mouthed American who loved food, videogames, and horror movies (though they tended to scare the crap out of him). He was talented at science and sports. Ludwig, on the other hand, was a focused German who enjoyed spending time with his dogs, reading, running and any other form of exercise or fitness training. Ludwig's was particularly gifted at sports but he was a whizz at maths and unbeatable in his economics class. They looked different too. Alfred was tall (which was always handy on the basketball court) with wide football-player shoulders. He had a muscular tone to his body which easily concealed his small layer of fat on his stomach. His sapphire eyes were framed by a pair of thin, angular glasses and he had sandy blonde hair and there was always that one strand which _never_ _went right_. Ludwig was all muscles and height and not one hair was ever out of place. His eyes were an icy blue which could turn a person to stone. Both aged seventeen, they seen as attractive and tended to gain attention from their peers.

Alfred grinned to himself as he realised that tonight was to be the night where they would attend their first session of Thornley Youth Theatre. Thornley Youth Theatre was a theatre group which Alfred had been a part of for three years only this year was going to be the best because Ludwig was going to be doing it with him (not that the German was aware of that yet). Alfred grimaced at the thought of telling Ludwig later as he realised that maybe signing Ludwig up for Youth Theatre without actually asking him could have been a bad idea. After all, Alfred loved the limelight- Ludwig, not so much. The shrill sound of the school bell rang throughout the room and Alfred shot up and grabbed his backpack. He shoved his maths book and pencil case into his bag and bolted out of the room in search of Ludwig.

He stood in the corridor, his keen eyes scanned the crowd for a familiar face. Alfred listened as the tannoy informed the students of the upcoming football game against Providence School. _"Don't miss the football game tomorrow folks, the South Coast Wanderers against the Providence All-Stars. Let's show them who the real champions are, go South Coast!" _Alfred was filled with a sudden adrenaline at the thought of the upcoming game and beating Providence, the school for snobs and show-offs. South Coast and Providence, both located in Thornley, shared an intense rivalry which seemed to have spiralled out of nowhere. Whenever the two schools mixed, there was sure to be trouble.

"Ludwig!" The American hollered, spotting his friend in the wave of students streaming through the corridor. Ludwig's head turned at the sound of Alfred's voice and Alfred briskly walked up to his friend, his backpack hoisted on one shoulder was heavy and loaded with books.

"Well," Ludwig began, his eyes laden with fatigue, "that's another day over."

"Um," the American hesitated as they stepped out onto the school's parking lot. The sun filled his vision and he had to shield his eyes as they walked into its encompassing beam. "Actually it's not," he confessed, biting the edge of his lip.

"What do you mean?" Ludwig asked, frowning. "What are you doing after this?"

"Actually," the American corrected, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. "You know that drama club I go to every year? Well, it's the first meeting tonight and we're going." Ludwig stared at him blankly, so Alfred decided to elaborate. "We're going to Thornley Youth Theatre tonight," he grinned. "Isn't that great? I signed us up!"

Ludwig's face held a mixture of annoyance and surprise. He sighed. "When did you do that? Why did you think_ I_ would _want_ to do that?" His arms were folded and he jutted his lip out stubbornly. "I'm not going Alfred," he said. Alfred didn't listen. He knew his friend wouldn't let him down.

Matthew, Alfred's older twin brother, pulled up in the parking lot and beeped his horn. "Mattie's here!" the American cried, facing Ludwig apologetically. "Sorry, meet me at the Community Hall at six? Promise you'll be there?" He asked, pursing his lips into a pout and drooping his eyes to give that classic puppy-dog look.

Ludwig sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes. "Ja, I'll be there."

"You promise?"

Ludwig brought his phone out, set the alarm for 5:30 and showed it to Alfred. "See, it is set. I'll be there, I promise. "

"Yes!" Alfred fist-bumped the air and raced to Matthew's car. "I'll see you later," he called out, leaving a baffled Ludwig in the middle of the parking lot.

Matthew stared at his brother disapprovingly. "Aren't you going to offer him a ride?"

"Nope," he breezed, gesturing to his friend. "Gilbert's gonna pick him up in a minute."

At that exact moment, a series of loud hollers and whoops were heard from just behind them. "See?" Alfred said smugly. "He's there right now."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Why is everyone so loud here?"

Alfred poked his tongue out. "We can't all be stuck-up and quiet like those Providence kids."

Matthew nodded, chuckling slightly. "I'll agree to that." Keeping his eye on the road, Matthew started the car, thrusting it into ignition. "Anyway, how did Ludwig take that theatre thing?"

"I only just told him," Alfred admitted sheepishly. "But, I think he took it pretty well, all things considered."

"Considering what?"

Alfred shrugged. "He doesn't really like acting."

* * *

It was five o'clock and Arthur's desk was piled with books, stationary and a strong, steaming cup of tea. His Providence uniform was folded neatly and rested on his bed ready for the next day of hard work. Arthur sat at his desk, his eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration and his mouth hardened into a frown. _Bloody maths… _He thought, turning the pages of his questions. _Why is there so much of it? Why does it even matter? _His thick eyebrows rose as he saw a particularly complex simultaneous equation. _Why do I need to find x and y? Can't they find themselves? Why do we even bloody care? _He took a sip of his tea in an attempt to relax but whilst faced with maths papers, it was a tricky task.

Setting the cup down, Arthur turned his paper back to the beginning and re-read the first question. Maths, for Arthur, was hard. Yes, he was clever (very clever, so he had been told) but maths just really wasn't his thing. The numbers just seemed to swirl in his mind, meshing into one another and the processes were often long abandoned in favour of an irrational panic and a quick scrawl of guessed numbers. He longed for the simplicity of English. He could mould and shape the words to suit his style, he could make other people _feel_ and that was something truly magical. English was essential to the human world. He felt that the power of words was constantly grossly undermined in place of hardened methodical subjects such as science and maths. But without passing maths, Arthur would never be accepted into a prestigious college like Yale or Stanford despite not actually wanting to do anything mathematically based at the college.

Arthur's thought process was interrupted by the sound of the British anthem that sang from his phone. Arthur, a Brit forced to move to America after the divorce of his parents, was still incredibly patriotic and couldn't wait to visit his country of origin once more.

He clicked the "answer" button without even looking at the contact. "Hello?"

"Arthur!" The Brit's closest friend Feliciano, chirped.

Instantly wary (the Italian only called when he wanted something) Arthur put the phone on loudspeaker and tried to focus his attention on his maths. "Feliciano," he greeted. "How are you?"

"I'm good thanks! I've just had dinner with Lovino but that's not why I wanted to talk." The Brit rolled his eyes. Of course that wasn't why Feliciano wanted to talk. He definitely wanted something.

Arthur sighed, placing his pen on his desk. He just wasn't focused anymore. "What do you want, Feliciano?"

"Well…" he began, trailing off as though he was a little hesitant and Arthur braced himself for the request. "This leaflet came to our house this morning and it was for the Thornley Youth Theatre and I looked at it because I like acting and then I thought that _you_ liked acting and then I-"

"Breathe Feliciano," Arthur interrupted, "You're talking extremely fast."

"Okay." The Italian took a deep breath. "Well like I said, I know that you like acting, seeing as you're my best friend and everything and so I thought why not sign us up? So I did."

"Okay," the Brit said, smiling slightly. It was true, he really did like acting and maybe a little fun could be good for him. "Why are you telling me this now, though?" Feliciano could have just told him at school as they both shared several classes at Providence and there was always lunch break.

"Uh…." the Italian began, his voice once again drifting off. "It starts at six tonight."

Arthur's vibrant green eyes flicked to the clock on his bedroom wall. It was now quarter past five, he had forty-five minutes to get ready and get there. "Feliciano!" he scolded. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I'm sorry!" Feliciano cried. "I completely forgot!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. Sometimes his friend could be so scatter-brained. "Don't worry about it; it's at the Community Hall, yes? I should be there on time. I'll have to go now though in order to be ready." He closed his maths books, drained his cold cup of tea, grimaced and packed away his stationary. "I'll see you there, okay?" he told his friend.

"Oh okay yay! See you later Arthur!" The Italian hung up, sounding relieved that the Brit had taken it so well.

"Well," Arthur muttered, standing in front of his closet mirror. "I'd better get my acting game on, wouldn't want to look bad now, would I?" he chuckled, rolling his eyes. It was drama, Arthur's second best subject- he was a natural.

So why did he have butterflies in his stomach? He wasn't quite sure. After all, it was only Thornley's Youth Theatre, nothing life-changing was going to happen there.

_Was it?_

* * *

Thornley Community Hall was a small place with a small visitor count. It only opened on Tuesdays for bingo and Thursdays for Youth Theatre. As it was the first Youth Theatre of the season, the number of teenagers came in dregs. There were a few from South Coast, even fewer from Providence and some other kids from out-of-town.

The leader of the Youth Theatre, a friendly man named Chris, made everybody sit in a large circle and introduce themselves. "But no schools though," he warned. A pillar of the community, Chris was all too aware of the competition between Providence and South Coast and he was reluctant to allow that to disturb any of the acting at the Youth Theatre.

One by one, the collection of teenagers introduced themselves; shyly at first but then as the circle progressed the teens became more and more confident. Chris clasped his hands together, "Okay now that we've got that out of the way we're just going to do some workshops for today and then I'll discuss auditions for our annual show." At the word "auditions" an excited buzz ran throughout the room.

"The first skill we're going to practise is mirroring," he paused, assessing the room. Everybody, it seemed, had brought someone they knew with them and were sat with them for familiarity and comfort. "First, you need to be with someone that you don't know, a complete stranger. I'll give you a few minutes to get into your pairs."

Alfred scanned the room, looking for somebody who looked a little friendly. His blue hues met with warm, hazel eyes and abandoning Ludwig, he happily went across the room to the bubbly-looking brunette. He was abruptly stopped in his tracks when a male with the thickest eyebrows Alfred had ever seen stood directly in front of him.

"I don't think so," he said, his gaze scrutinising the American. "You're being my partner. If not then I'll have to go with your mate over there and somehow, I don't think that we'll get on all that much."

Alfred crossed his arms, feeling defensive. How dare this guy criticise his best friend? "Oh, how do you know that? For looking at him for five minutes?"

The Brit, his accent was thick and distinct, raised an eyebrow. "How could you tell that Feliciano was going to be a nice person?" he asked. "For looking at him for five minutes?" he quipped, imitating Alfred. "Now, are you going to let us get on with this or sulk for the entire evening because I'd actually like to do some acting if you don't mind?" At that, Arthur walked off and found a space, gesturing for Alfred to join him.

_Oh great, _Alfred thought, _I just got partnered with a complete dick._

* * *

"He's just so freaking annoying!" moaned Alfred for the fifth time since he and Ludwig had left the Community Hall. "He gave me his number!" the American raged. "In case I need 'drama advice,'" Alfred rolled his eyes. "I don't need drama advice. I _know_ how to be dramatic!"

Ludwig sighed, walking alongside the ranting American. "Trust me, I know that Alfred."

"Anyway," Alfred changed topic, his previous irritation fading slightly. "How was your partner? The friendly-looking one?"

"He was just that," the German replied, smiling slightly. "He was very friendly." In fact, the Italian may have been over-friendly for Ludwig's liking. His bubbly personality was nice to be around but could, much like Alfred's loudness, be irritating at times. However, they had gotten on brilliantly unlike Alfred and Arthur, and Ludwig sincerely hoped that Feliciano would be at Thornley Youth Theatre next week. He was even slightly disappointed that unlike Alfred, he and Feliciano had completely forgotten to exchange numbers (not that he would tell anyone that).

"I wanted to work with him," Alfred grumbled. "Instead I got stuck with moody old Eyebrows." Ludwig rolled his eyes, when Alfred got annoyed by something he would let everybody know about it.

"Don't worry about it Alfred," Ludwig said comfortingly. "It's the football game tomorrow, you'll be able to take all of your anger out on Providence and win us the school championship."

The American grinned. "Yeah, that will be a pretty sweet victory." _Note to self, just build up his ego and he gets happy again._

The two friends stopped when they reached the German's house. "Are you sure you'll be alright walking back on your own?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Ludwig, it's ten minutes away. I'm sure that I'll be fine. I'll see you later." Alfred waved and, humming to himself, headed towards his house.

Ludwig watched him go, a faint smile playing on his face. He retreated into his house with the feeling that everything was about to change.


	2. Walking Advertisements

Chapter Two

The shrill screech of Alfred's alarm blared throughout the bedroom. The sunlight's radiant beam filtered through the crack in the curtains and Alfred had to squint before fumbling for his phone and turning the racket off. He grabbed his glasses from the sideboard and slid them on. He ruffled his sandy, messy locks and opened his curtains. Light filled the room and Alfred saw, to his utter joy, that it was to be a bright, sunny day.

Today was to be one of the most important days of his life. It was the day of the annual football game between the South Coast Wanderers and the Providence All-Stars. As the quarterback, the pressure was on for Alfred to get it right. They _had_ to win-if not for the pride of the school then for Alfred's own ego. Alfred had his own personal history with Providence and it wasn't pretty.

Alfred and his brother knew someone from Providence, Francis Bonnefoy, and they had been best friends in middle school. They had been incredibly close. Once they had left middle school, Francis' mother had paid for Francis to go to Providence whilst Alfred and Matthew had been sent to South Coast. It took just three weeks for Francis to change. The school had transformed him and suddenly Alfred wasn't worthy enough to bask in Francis' company. Francis withdrew from his previous social circle and found himself some new friends who Alfred had seen him with before. Antonio Carriedo, an optimistic Spanish student and, strangely, Gilbert Beilschmidt, Ludwig's older brother. They had become Francis' only friends and the brothers had been cruelly pushed aside.

Alfred found himself staring at the post-it note where Arthur's cursive handwriting had written his phone number in events of Alfred needing "drama advice." His drama partner had left him feeling angry, annoyed and ever so slightly confused. He couldn't understand how the Brit had made such an impact on him. From what he'd seen so far, Arthur was irritable, pompous and incredibly sarcastic. He had spoken to Alfred with a tone which implicated that Arthur found Alfred to be inferior or less intelligent. Yet, for some strange reason, Alfred felt almost compelled to call him. Perhaps in the pretence that he needed drama tips or that he wanted to discuss Youth Theatre. That was the reason why the phone number was taped to the wall just above Alfred's computer; he wasn't sure when he was going to take it down or if he ever would. He had come to the conclusion that Arthur, whatever his intentions, was no good for Alfred and that his _delectable_ accent and _gorgeous _green eyes would have to go unnoticed if Alfred were to remain sane for the rest of his life. He shook his head, quickly typed Arthur's number in his phone under the contact _Drama Advice_ and ripped the post-it note off the wall.

It was nearly nine and if Alfred wanted to be on time for school then he was going to have to shake himself out of his current mood. He had a long and eventful day ahead of him and needed to be at the top of his game. He threw his phone on his bed, grabbed some clothes from his closet and attempted to quell all thoughts of bushy-browed Brits with attitude issues from his mind.

After all, he had a football game to prepare for.

* * *

It was one in the afternoon and the cafeteria of Providence was abuzz with the harmonious chatter of students and staff alike. Feliciano and Arthur were seated at one of the many tables in the cafeteria along with Feliciano's brother Lovino Vargas, Lovino's best friend Antonio Carriedo and another one of Antonio's friends, Francis Bonnefoy.

"For Christ's sake, do we really have to go to that theatre again?" Arthur asked his friend over his plate of chips. "I mean really," he continued, oblivious to the fact that Feliciano was no longer listening as he was talking to Lovino instead. "It was so tedious and the people there are complete idiots. Yes, maybe _some_ of them can act but then they just seem so incompetent and not to mention bloody irritating." Arthur turned to Francis, who shrugged. "He's not even listening to me!"

Francis sighed sympathetically. "You can't really blame him, Arthur. As lovely as your voice can be, when you're ranting about something nobody cares about people just tend to switch off."

Arthur's mouth gaped open dramatically. It was the same face he pulled when Francis told him the ending of _The Book Thief_ before he had finished reading it. "I was not _ranting_, as you so lovingly put it and _you_ can hardly talk, the only thing you've spoken about all day is tonight's bloody football game!"

By now, Feliciano had stopped speaking to his brother and had turned his attention to his friend. He tilted his head questionably and his chocolate eyes blinked several times as he talked. "What's the matter Arthur?" he asked, his voice sounding concerned. "You sound upset .Don't you like football?"

Arthur groaned aloud. "Feliciano, you _know_ that I hate football which, for the record, is your rip-off version of _our_ rugby and is not anything like actual football. How many times do I have to say it?"

"Oh," Feliciano's voice was small. "Is it basketball that you like then or baseball? I know that you like _something_."

"Feliciano," Arthur's curt voice began. "I don't like any type of sports, okay?" Feliciano looked puzzled so Arthur tried to reinforce the message. "I'll say it to you one more time: I _hate_ sports."

"Yes, any type of exercise and he'll keel over." Francis joked with a wink. "It's too strenuous for the old man."

"Wow _strenuous_," Arthur retorted, feeling his face turn hot. "How many brain cells did you muster for that one? Surely that's too big a word for your restricted vocabulary."

To Arthur's surprise, Francis did not say anything in return. There was no snappy remark or sarcastic quip. Instead, the French teen rose to his feet and collected his things. Arthur was about to ask him where he was going and to tell him that it was only a joke and was Francis feeling alright when Francis gave Arthur a look so cold that it stopped him in his tracks. "You know," he sounded tired, "you can be so _horrible_ sometimes."

He then turned to everyone else, evidently aware that they were staring at him. "I'll see you all later, okay?" He walked away, leaving Arthur stunned and feeling a secret surge of guilt.

Antonio, who had been sitting next to the French teen, shook his head slowly. "He's going through a hard time at the moment, Arthur. He just needs someone to be there for him and you didn't really help."

"Oh screw you Antonio." Arthur stood up; the bell was going to ring soon. "I'll see you all later tonight at the football game."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said," Arthur replied smoothly, cutting off Feliciano. "But I need to apologise to Francis and anyway, maybe a little bit of sports won't kill me."

With that he walked away, leaving his friend behind.

* * *

"Are we all ready for this!?"

Alfred's voice rang loudly and clearly throughout the boy's locker room, and Ludwig had to resist the temptation to smack his best friend in the face. Ludwig had a massive headache and sometimes Alfred's constant loudness and optimism could be aggravating.

"YEAH!" the football team cried, fist-pumping the air in such synchronisation that whenever he saw it, Ludwig always felt like an outsider. He preferred to isolate himself before a big game rather than sit with the others on the team. The silence helped Ludwig focus. The sound of idle chatter was incredibly distracting.

This was a big game and Ludwig was feeling nervous. He supposed that the whole team felt nervous, even Alfred, not that he ever let it show. If they won against Providence then they would have a chance of winning the Football Championship for the first time in ten years. Admittedly, Providence had won the Championship for three years in a row but South Coast had never had Alfred as its captain and, in Ludwig's opinion, Alfred was quite possibly the best quarterback that he'd ever seen. If there would be a year when they could actually win, that year would be now.

Lost in deep thought, Ludwig did not see Alfred approaching and was startled when his best friend sat next to him. "You okay? You seem a little jumpy." The American laughed and Ludwig thought that he could detect the smallest amount of nervousness in his voice.

Ludwig nodded, smiling to reassure his friend. "Yes, I'm fine." He took a closer look at Alfred whose hair was messier than usual and his typical grin seemed a little smaller than it normally was. "Are _you_ okay?"

Alfred sighed and raked a hand through his hair, causing even more strands to come out of order though, as usual, his cowlick was still fixed in position. It seemed that no matter how hard Alfred tried to smooth that piece of hair down, it still remained.

"We just really need to win this," he said, stating wistfully into the distance. "I've never wanted anything so badly before. I don't even know _why_ I want it this much, I just do…"

Ludwig wrapped an arm around Alfred, pulling him into an awkward man-hug. The whistle blew, signalling that all of the players should be on the field. Ludwig patted him on the shoulder before getting up. "The whistle has just gone. We should go."

"Yeah," Alfred replied reluctantly. "It's show-time." And then, as though he wasn't completely overcome with nerves and riddled with worry, he jumped from his seat and sprinted out onto the field. "Let's go win this!"

Ludwig had to stop himself from smiling, Alfred's enthusiasm was contagious.

Maybe they could actually win.

* * *

The football game was in full swing and Arthur watched as the players ran up and down the field, their coloured jerseys looking like dotted blurs as they sprinted from one end to another. The ball was a whirring shadow as it soared across the field. He tried to pay attention to the game but he was too busy thinking about Francis and the way his face had looked when he had walked away. Arthur could only think of one word to describe it- crushed. He wondered what this meant. Maybe what Antonio had said was true and Francis was just having a rough time lately or maybe it was something else entirely. Shaking himself out of his reverie, Arthur was surprised to see that the game had finished and that-_bloody hell_\- the South Coast Wanderers had triumphed over the Providence All-Stars by a shocking twenty point lead.

Arthur looked out at the field to see a dejected Francis and Antonio storming into the Guest changing rooms. He knew that they would then go to a bar to drink away their sorrows. _Ah, well, _Arthur thought, secretly relieved, _I'll just have to apologise to him another day. _Arthur got up from his seat and headed for the exit. Feliciano had left as soon as the game finished, saying that he needed to speak to someone and Arthur had asked no questions. He was just on his way out when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around.

"Hey Arthur," Arthur was stunned to see Alfred from the Youth Theatre standing right in front of him, his hair damp with sweat and clad in a blue jersey with the name JONES embodied on the front. "What are you doing here?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and gestured towards his surroundings. "Well believe it or not Alfred, I actually came to see the football game."

Alfred laughed, scratching the nape of his neck. "Sorry, I guess you just don't really seem the type of person who would be interested in high school football."

"Well you don't really seem like the type of person who _plays_ high school football," Arthur retorted, despite the fact that it was a complete lie. With a physique like Alfred's, Arthur supposed he must have been actively partaking in some form of exercise and did seem like a preppy jock kind of person. "Wait a second," Arthur squinted at Alfred's jersey in an attempt to distinguish the school's emblem, "I wasn't aware that you went to Providence."

This caused Alfred to laugh out loud. His body shook with laughter and the muscles in his arms tensed and rippled. Arthur wanted to look away, it wasn't right for someone to look that good after sport participation. "That's because I don't go to Providence," he replied. Arthur didn't like the way he spat the name _Providence_ as if it were a curse word. "I go to South Coast."

There was now an invisible, impenetrable barrier between the two. All of sudden any hope, however small, of friendship with Alfred had been dashed. He could never be friends with someone from that _place_. "Ah that explains it," Arthur stated. "You're a classic example of a South Coast student. You have a low intelligence but an ego the size of Russia to balance it out. You're like a walking advertisement for the place." As soon as the words had left his mouth, he regretted them. Alfred's face had dropped and Arthur was left with the impression that it was going to require more than a hasty apology to smooth things over.

Alfred shook his head slowly and Arthur could see the disappointment in his blue, blue eyes. "I _knew_ it," his voice was quiet now and just ever so slightly sad and then it went angry. "You think that we don't hate you too? The way you all act, as though you're better than us. You're all arrogance and nothing else, just because you can afford to pay for your education." Again, he shook his head but this time it was in disgust. He laughed dryly. "I knew that you were too good to be true."

"Alfred," Arthur began, he was battling the strange urge to cry. He couldn't understand why he was feeling so emotional. He'd only known the American for a day and yet he felt as if he'd destroyed something beautiful. "You don't even know me."

"Well that didn't stop you from judging me, did it?" Alfred's voice was cold and he turned his back on Arthur, obviously no longer willing to converse with the Brit. "I'll see you on Thursday, maybe."

Arthur let Alfred walk away. His hands were shaking and he found himself taking deep, trembling breaths in order to keep himself composed. He thought back to Alfred's words, to how he had been so judgemental right from the very start and to the way Alfred had looked at him when he realised who Arthur truly was.

Arthur was a walking advertisement for Providence and that had ruined everything.


	3. Bitter Trivia

Chapter Three

"Hi! I've been looking everywhere for you." It had gotten cold out and Ludwig had just decided to get changed and head home when he was tapped on the shoulder. He turned to face none other than Feliciano, the chirpy Italian from the Youth Theatre.

"Feliciano?" Ludwig stared at the Italian, puzzled. "What are you doing here? You don't play football, do you?" As soon as he said the words, he wanted to take them back. Why was he being an idiot? It couldn't be the fact that Feliciano was there, so what was it? Maybe he was just tired from the game or still pumped with adrenaline. Yes, that had to be it.

Feliciano simply smiled, oblivious. "I came to watch the football game, of course! I was here with my friend Arthur, but he wanted to talk to somebody and I wanted to find you because I wanted to tell you that-"

Ludwig interrupted the Italian who was talking so fast that there seemed to be a hazard of combustion. "Breathe, Feliciano."

"Sorry," Feliciano said sheepishly. His curl bounced with zeal as he spoke. "I forget how fast I can talk. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that you played really well out there. You were the best!"

Ludwig could have sworn that his heart skipped a beat but he wasn't sure why. Maybe he just wasn't used to compliments? He felt his cheeks redden and cursed himself for acting this way. "Really? You actually think that?" He smiled widely at his _friend? Acquaintance_? He wasn't quite sure. "Thank you Feliciano."

Without warning Feliciano wrapped his arms around Ludwig's torso, giving him a warm hug. "You're welcome," he chirped. Ludwig knew that his face had turned bright red and his heart rate had sped up considerably. It felt similar to when he was on the field playing football, only this time he had butterflies in his stomach too. "I mean that guy Arthur worked with, Alfred, he was pretty good too."

Ludwig smiled, shifting his feet awkwardly. It was freezing and Ludwig was certain that it was going to rain soon and he'd have liked to have been home as soon as possible. "Yes Alfred's very good. He's the quarterback after all, and my best friend." Ludwig checked his watch. It was nearly ten; he was supposed to be meeting Alfred. "Anyway, how come I haven't seen you around school? There's not that many people in junior year." That was a lie. There were a lot of people in junior year but Ludwig was sure that he would've noticed the Italian.

Feliciano shrugged. "My friends aren't very sporty or very noticeable I guess." His face then lit up with realisation. "Oh wait, Francis and Toni are. They're both on the football team! They're very good!"

"Francis _Bonnefoy_?" It was impossible for Ludwig to keep the shock from his voice. Everybody on the South Coast team knew Francis. He was the flamboyant, uptight quarterback for Providence. But why would he be friends with Feliciano? "Which school do you go to, Feliciano?"

Feliciano beamed. "Why, I go to Providence of course!"

Ludwig felt as though an incredible weight had fell on his heart. Any sort of future with Feliciano was doomed to go wrong and could never be. He took a deep breath. "Oh. I go to South Coast."

Feliciano simply shrugged. It was as though, to him, the school rivalry was nothing but trivial. "That's okay. We can still be friends though, right?" His face was pleading and Ludwig felt immediately guilty for being so judgemental but he honestly couldn't see any other way.

"I have to go." Ludwig couldn't look at Feliciano's warm chocolate eyes as he spoke. "It might rain soon and I wanted to be back for eleven." He started to walk away, knowing that it was wrong. It was all wrong. "Goodbye, Feliciano."

On the long way home he would be haunted by the face of a dejected, lonely Italian who had just wanted a new friend.

* * *

"I can't believe it Ludwig, he freaking goes to Providence!" Alfred was sprawled on his bed, his covers wrapped around him in a cocoon of perpetual warmth. His mobile was on the pillow next to him, the loudspeaker feature was turned on so he didn't have to cradle it next to his ear. His bedroom was dark with the only light being the thin strip of moonlight that squeezed through the gap in the curtains. "I mean I can believe it actually. He's so stuck-up and thinks he's better than everybody. Oh, and he's _so_ intelligent, not to mention arrogant." Alfred paused, considering. "Of course he is- he's from _there_." Alfred laughed dryly and waited for Ludwig's response. He'd never felt so bitter before. Today should have been one of the most glorious days of his life- his football team had beaten all odds and had won the big match that could win them the Championships. But, it had all been ruined by a bushy-browed, cynical asshole that Alfred couldn't get out of his head.

"They're not all like that," Ludwig snapped. His voice crackled harshly down the phone. "Have you ever stopped to think that maybe they could be different now? That this feud is pointless?"

Alfred laughed bitterly, vexed by the fact that his best friend was siding against him. "That's a load of rubbish, Ludwig. You don't know okay, it never happened to you! My best friend completely changed the day he went _there_. I played against him today and he acted as though he never even knew me. That school is bad news for people like us, Lud." He knew he had said too much, got carried away but Alfred couldn't allow Ludwig to stick up for them; it just wasn't right.

"He played against us today?" Ludwig questioned and Alfred immediately cringed. He hadn't told Ludwig the identity of the friend who had hurt him so long ago, but Ludwig knew the story. "What do you mean, people like us? Maybe we're not as special as you think, Alfred." His friend sounded fed-up and so was Alfred. He was so done with the conversation. Ludwig had called Alfred half an hour ago and had told him about his encounter with Feliciano Vargas and Alfred, feeling sorry for his friend, told him about Arthur. But whilst Alfred felt hostile and angry, Ludwig seemed to be remorseful and guilty for some reason.

He faked a yawn. "You know what; I'm really tired all of a sudden. I'm gonna go to bed. I'll see you tomorrow at school though, okay?" He tried to sound like his normal, careless self but he doubted that Ludwig believed him.

"Okay Alfred." Ludwig sounded sceptical but thankfully didn't question Alfred's sudden fatigue. "Are we still going to Youth Theatre next week?"

Alfred rubbed his eyes, feeling drained. "Yeah, sure. I don't see why we should quit just because they're there." _He's there, don't you mean? _Alfred knew that Ludwig wasn't really bothered about Feliciano. Ludwig probably _wanted_ to see him. Alfred, on the other hand, didn't want anything to do with either of them.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow then." Ludwig yawned down the phone and Alfred realised just how late it was and immediately felt bad for keeping his friend up.

"Bye." Alfred hung up and stared at the ceiling. He was having his first proper emotional meltdown and he did not like it at all. He was in absolute turmoil over Arthur, someone that he'd only known for a day. Luckily for Alfred, he now had nearly a week to get over him.

Alfred was snapped out of his deep thoughts by the sound of a text alert. He checked the ID and frowned. It was from Drama Advice.

_Alfred, I'm sorry that I treated you that way earlier. The truth is, I'd had a rough day and for some reason found myself thinking of you to provide me with some comfort. To find that you attend the very school that I'm destined to despise plummeted my mood from bad to worse and I took it out on you. I just want you to know that I don't think that you're a walking advertisement (what even is that?) for South Coast, maybe nobody is. I hate apologising so I'm trying to make this short. I'm sorry for judging you. I hope you can forgive me. See you at Youth Theatre?  
\- Arthur_

Alfred rolled his eyes and scoffed. Did Arthur think he could win him over that easily? That one text message would solve everything? Oh, how wrong he was. Alfred read the message one more time, trying to identify the hidden mockery that was sure to be there and, when he couldn't find any, he frustratingly deleted the message.

He placed his phone on the bedside table and went to sleep.

* * *

It had been six days since the football game and Arthur was feeling sick with nerves. It was the day of Youth Theatre and he was really beginning to wish that he could quit. Alfred hadn't responded to his message and Arthur just didn't want to be in the same room as the bubbly American. It would be torturous.

When Arthur arrived, Feliciano was already there. He had called him earlier and asked if he could go by himself as Feli had to be there early. Arthur suspected that it was something to do with that German that he was so lovesick about. He spotted Alfred talking to said German in the corner of the room. In fact it looked as though Alfred was doing everything within his power to keep Feliciano at bay. Arthur could sympathise with that. He didn't want to lose his best friend to a rival either.

"Alright guys, listen up!" Chris called, motioning for everyone to huddle in the middle of the room. "Now, I know I said that we would be holding auditions for the performance before we got started, but I'm afraid I have to change that. The play's been put forward by three weeks so we simply don't have the time." Excited whispers were shared around the room. Had the parts been already cast?

"As you are all aware the show we're planning on doing is none other than Shakespeare's _Romeo &amp; Juliet._" Arthur rolled his eyes. Why did everyone only ever use _that_ play? It wasn't exactly Shakespeare's best. "I have decided to cast this play based on last week's performances and here is my decision. Next week will be a trial week where I'll revise my decision and switch or allocate parts based on how well you perform. "At that, Chris tacked a sheet of A4 to the wall behind him. He blocked the way so that no one could see it until he had finished. "Rehearsals start next week though you should definitely read over the script before then." As everyone started to move, Chris raised his hand, stopping them in their tracks. "Lastly, I just want to let you know that, as with traditional Shakespearian plays, some female parts will be played by males." Arthur rolled his eyes. It had nothing to do with tradition, most of the people there were male. "If you have a problem with this then please, let me know."

Arthur rushed forward, eager to know his role. He pushed his way through the crowd amid excited whoops and disappointed groans. He was finally at a position where he could look at the list and he found that the first name on the list made him smile.

_Romeo- Alfred F. Jones_

Arthur wasn't exactly surprised. Despite his comments last week, Alfred was talented and could act very well. Arthur skimmed the list swiftly, trying to find his name.

_Mercutio- Roderich Edelstein _

_Tybalt- Ludwig Beilschmidt_

_Nurse- Feliciano Vargas_

Arthur grinned proudly, trying to scan the room for Feliciano. His friend had landed a pretty good part and he was sure that he'd be happy, even if he was playing a female character. To his dismay, Arthur couldn't see his bubbly pal so he carried on with the list. The names continued until he reached the bottom. His name wasn't on there. Feeling dejected he tried again and saw, to his surprise, that his name was second on the list. He must have missed it.

_Juliet- Arthur Kirkland_

His chest heaved with pride. He had landed one of the best roles! His smile soon stopped when he realised what that meant. Romeo was _Alfred _and everybody was aware of the undeniable chemistry that Romeo and Juliet were destined to have shared. Did this mean that they would have to kiss?_ On stage? _Arthur's stomach felt fluttery at the thought even though he was certain that he had no feelings for Alfred in the romantic department.

Arthur met Alfred's eyes from across the room and the American shrugged, obviously too pleased with his own role to care about their current predicament.

_Oh bloody hell, _thought Arthur. _What am I going to do?_

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for such a late update! :3**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~BooksAreLikeChocolateButBetter.**


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